


Cold

by Dissonance



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence - The Reichenbach Fall, Episode: s02e03 The Reichenbach Fall, Hurt, Hurt with no Comfort, I ship it so hard, I ship this more than anything on the show, Kinda, Lots of tears, M/M, Platonic Relationship, Reichenbach Angst, Reichenbach Feels, Revenge Plot, The Rooftop Confrontation, Whump, and sebastian moran isn't even bbc sherlock canon, but I had to write this, but only slight divergence, canonical death, rooftop, so many feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 07:44:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12164550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dissonance/pseuds/Dissonance
Summary: Sebastian found Moriarty's body.





	Cold

**Author's Note:**

> I am terribly sorry for writing this, but I had to. I've had this little idea for awhile now and I just couldn't not write it. It's short and sweet, but not so sweet.
> 
> [continually editing this to make it better, and adding more details]

Sebastian let out a small victorious laugh as the consulting detective fell from the top of the building, his arms spread out wide, flapping wildly like he was trying to fly. A loud, resounding " _No!_ " echoed out from below, the source of the noise being a distressed John Watson, running toward where Sherlock would splat.

The sniper nodded, removing the genius's pet from his sights. He slowly and methodically packed up his gun, relishing in the sound of the case's zipper. He stood, a grin spreading across his scarred face. Yes, they'd done it. Finally, they got rid of Sherlock Holmes.

He walked down the steps, stashing his weapon in the assigned janitor's closet. He sat on the bench in front of it, his phone sitting next to him. He straightened his jacket, watching the people in the hospital start to panic and run about as they realized a corpse laid outside. He waited, and waited, and waited.

_Where was the call?_

Sebastian's grin was gone, replaced now with a slight frown. He picked up his phone, typing in his password and checking his call logs. No, there was nothing new. At all. He must've been sitting there for a good fifteen minutes then, and still no call. Now, Jim wasn't one to mess around and dillydally. He would've called, especially since they won. Maybe even showed up in person.

_So where was he?_

Something in the depths of Sebastian's heart seemed to cramp up, a deep foreboding feeling that settled like ice in a warm drink, but he dismissed it. He pocketed his phone, standing up from the bench, trying to act as normal as possible as he headed for the stairs. He climbed the endless things as quickly, just to check if Jim was still up there, maybe relishing in his victory.

He touched the cold metal handle of the rooftop door, twisting it slowly. Something was telling him to turn away, something deep in his chest. The same feeling. He shook his head, opening the door despite his subconscious's warning. He stepped out onto the cool concrete, standing next to the little taller patch of roof that showed all the ventilation bits. The air up there was crisp, a strong gust of wind slamming the door behind him and pushing his dirty blonde hair all around. He narrowed his eyes, the cold making them water slightly.

"Jim?" He called, gruff voice echoing across the expansive concrete. He walked forward, hands in his jacket pockets, eyes scanning the area for the man. "You can't be up here for much longer, it'll be weird if they find you up here-" He stopped, gaze locked on a prone form lying on the ground, blood pooling around his head. Sebastian's heart jumped up into his throat, the small feeling he'd felt earlier now ringing like a fire alarm. _Was that- it was- oh god, oh no, no no no no-_

Sebastian rushed forward, heart beating wildly. His blue eyes were as wide as dinner plates, pupils small. He knelt down next to Jim's head, not caring about the blood soaking his knees. His lover was sprawled upon the pavement, one arm by his side, the other like he was reaching out for something. And indeed, it seemed he was. There was a pistol lying there, mocking him. He registered the tangy scent of a fired gun, and it burned his nose.

" _Jim-_ " He breathed, hands hovering over James Moriarty's body. Mouth agape, Sebastian pushed two fingers against his neck, heart shattering when he felt nothing, no familiar thump sounding. He let out a pained, strangled sound, tears welling up in his eyes, threatening to spill.

His body trembled, one shaky hand grabbing his still one. He laced their fingers together, squeezing softly. He ran his thumb over the gold-plated band on Jim's ring finger, praying to the sky. To his dismay, there was no response, no reassuring squeeze back. 

_Oh, god._

Sebastian grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled his limp body towards him, cradling him. He had long passed just crying, now flat-out sobbing, barely getting a breath in between them. He desperately wished Jim would wake up, smile at him, call him tiger and tell him it was a joke. He clenched his eyes shut, memories he had been fond of turning bittersweet. His whole body shook as he held Jim against his chest, free hand running through the man's hair. He felt the blood matted strands on the back of his head, and Sebastian's mind supplied him with how he must've died.

No, this was crazy. It was a nightmare, some horrible dream that his worrying self-was making him sit through. 

_This isn't happening. Jim can't be dead._

\--

Sebastian sat there for hours until his sobs died down, and he was left with a cold, stiff corpse. Too cold. Too very cold. Ice seemed to slowly frost over his heart, bile rose up in his throat, and he felt an urge to vomit, but he didn't. He stared ahead, as unmoving as the corpse, despite the tremor evident in his hands. Sebastian leaned down, planting a small kiss on Jim's forehead, lips meeting cold skin. He felt another sob fighting its way to the surface, and he swallowed, lifting his head up. He slowly and gingerly placed Jim back on the cold concrete, regret and anger boiling up inside him at the sight of it. The patchy crimson contrasting starkly with the white roof.

He grabbed the pistol that had ended Jim's life, walking with purpose toward the rooftop door, blood-stained trembling hands clenched into fists. 

They would pay. They all would. They would all die, he'd make sure of it. For Jim, he'd give them the slowest and most painful deaths he could ever bestow upon anyone. And he'd enjoy it, every single moment he saw the pain in their eyes. Sebastian smiled, that murderous smile that Jim used to own when he assigned Sebastian his target, or when he threatened his enemies. Gripping the handle of the rooftop door, he threw it open. He decided on his first target, the first one he'd make sure paid-- John Watson.


End file.
